


Rose-Tinted Sunset

by RuffledPigeons



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: A lot of cute moments, Adoptive family, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, And chaos, Angst, Arranged Marriage, DreamSMP - Freeform, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Magic, Mentions of War, Opposite Kingdoms, Other, PAIN AND AGONY, Platonic Relationships, Pogtopia, Swearing, alcohol is involved, and so on - Freeform, but there's gonna be angst, dreamsmpwar, enemies to boyfriends, im so sorry, kingdom au, l'manberg, let's not forget chaos, no romance unless explicity stated, phil runs a sanctuary, there's gonna be a lot of heart to heart, there's so many tags i'm sorry, wholesome content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:01:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27586475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuffledPigeons/pseuds/RuffledPigeons
Summary: The world has changed a lot since Phil was a child, he remembered the land being full of miracles, wonder and mystical things, but when rumors spread of it being the source of corruption and evil, many of those things were whisked away without a single thought in the world. He recalled how the lakes glittered with sprites and how the mockingbird's sang wanderers to ease, but now that was all apart of his memory. What was once a blessing was now a curse.Eventually, such things became worthy of exile and on some occasions, death; marked as treason and labeled a follower to the unknown. Magic became something that was mocked as a child's dream and was rather frowned upon. If there were even some chosen by the wilds, no one would know.He intended on keeping it that way.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Clay | Dream & Dave | Technoblade, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Eret/Floris | Fundy, Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt/Minx | JustAMinx/Niki | Nihachu/Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo/TommyInnit, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 9
Kudos: 183





	1. [Disclaimer]

Ah, yes, here I am working on yet another story for this idea has been burned in my head for the last couple of days! Now, you are probably seeing some of those tags and wondering why they are there. A warning, I am not shipping the people, more so the personas they play and most of those relationship tags border romanticism / platonic. (Read below to see the pairings and what they may be) Now, I as the writer am putting the trust in you to not go around shoving fanfiction into the faces of the content creators, this is purely for us to boggle at and enjoy!

This story is meant to be about a bundle of different Kingdoms throughout the land which home various different characters, each kingdom has a dynamic and each kingdom has their own purpose. Throughout the years, the land and it's inhabitants have grown cautious of magic due to the spread of mischief and rumors, which eventually lead to a full out ban against it. Those who did have magic were either exiled or executed, and those who still practice it despite the new law will often be greeted with the same fate.

Although, it's not a crime to be a magic user, but it is heavily frowned upon and is often treated as a curse, those who are found out to be magic users are trialed to be 'saved' from the grasps of the 'unknown'. It's a crime to perform magic, so to say! Those who do have magic do keep it on the down-low and often let that part of themselves fade in order to blend into the society.

I will add more as I go, and with that being said. Stay tuned, stay safe, and stay hydrated.

Platonic:  
\- Technoblade and Dream, they are mainly in it for the chaos they can create.  
\- Eret and Fundy, they are pretty much in it for the marriage benefits in a joking way.

Romantic-ish:  
\- Jschlatt and Wilbur, who, of course, transpire throughout the story.  
\- George and Sapnap as crushes from another kingdom turned to secrecy.

???:  
Skeppy and Badboyhalo, where neither of them really know if it's romanticism or platonic and just continue living on their life being incredibly close friends who run a little shop together

Tubbo and Tommy, who technically start out as enemies and have a forbidden friendship with one another which slowly turns into feelings for the other. Romanticism is planned.

\- Ruffled


	2. Business and Biscuits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have a splendid day, Phil.” 
> 
> “I think I will. Come back if you’d like some milk and buttercrisps.”

The world has changed a lot since Phil was a child, he remembered the land being full of miracles, wonder and mystical things, but when rumors spread of it being the source of corruption and evil, many of those things were whisked away without a single thought in the world. He recalled how the lakes glittered with sprites and how the mockingbird's sang wanderers to ease, but now that was all a part of his memory. What was once a blessing was now a curse.

Eventually, such things became worthy of exile and on some occasions, death; marked as treason and labeled a follower to the unknown. Magic became something that was mocked as a child's dream and was rather frowned upon. If there were even some chosen by the wilds, no one would know.

_ He intended on keeping it that way. _

Phil had grown a lot since then, from a bright-eyed child to a tired-eyed adult that looked as if he needed a goodnight rest for once in his damned life, but there was a lot for him to do despite it now being apparent. He lived within the Kingdom of Cessavit, running a bakery that flourished day by day in growth and popularity with baked goods and pastries that were renowned throughout his section of the town. He greeted every customer with a welcoming smile and gentle eyes, speaking kindly to those he met and being sure they left his shop with a pip in their step and baskets of jams to accompany their purchases. 

It was an early morning, just the brink of daylight as Phil stood outside his shop sweeping away leaves and dust from the cobblestone path, sleep still in his eyes as he battled the constant desire to go inside and return to his slumber, but today was the day of the collection; the day the collectors would go to shop to shop, merchant and merchant to collect their taxes in order to keep their businesses open and if they couldn’t pay? Well, it was more than likely they’d waltz away with more than they had asked for. By now, Phil had learned his ways to swindle the collectors in ways he hoped wouldn’t land him within a pair of cuffs, but, sometimes that’s how one has to survive in this debt riddled land. 

Right on the clock, Phil heard that subtle sound of boots clattering against the paved path with a carriage in tow, one that appeared guarded for that matter. The collectors were no royalty, but they definitely knew they weren’t welcomed by the villagers as many had lost more than they ever had to them simply over a missed payment.

“Philip, my good buddy ol’ pal!” A raspy voice called out, gaining a glazed over look from Phil himself as he’d cast his stare over towards the man.

There stood quite the devious looking man, six foot three with devilish eyes dressed almost lavishly in a suit that looked almost as if it were tailored specifically for him, the jacket of sorts flowing freely behind him as those leather boots clattered on towards him.

“Phil,” The baker corrected, leaning slightly against his broom as he watched the collector closely. Sometimes, Phil swore this man was merely a satyr in disguise; he could always imagine an outline of curled, ram like horns protruding from the side of his head and rectangle shaped pupils that carved their gaze into anything that met their eye.

“Right, right, Phillis, you know what I’m here for. I don’t wanna be here, you don’t want me to be here, so let’s make this easier on the both of us and just do as business intels.” The collector spoke smoothly and quickly, hands folded behind his back with a crooked smile painting onto his face, enough to make Phil wish he stayed in bed and pretending to not be home. 

“Phil.” He corrected again as he turned on his sandals, heading into the baker while exhaling a sigh from his nose.

“Philbert, got it.” The collector waved a hand dismissively as he’d approach the counter with an inquisitive gaze, eyes skimming over the baked goods on display for all but a moment before rasping a knuckle against the containment.”Do you have the payment? Otherwise, I’m going to have to write you up.” There was smugness in his voice, something Phil felt almost disrespected to be seemingly mocked by a man almost ten years younger than he was. Yet, all he could do was maintain that tired smile and nod in understanding, this was a process that has gone on for years now. 

“Well, aren’t you a lively one today. In a good mood? Not even going to order a glass of milk?” Phil started with a hum as he’d fiddle around behind the counter, shuffling through what could be assumed as a jingling crate adorned with a tablecloth with all but a sack of grain atop of it. 

“Hurry up.” The collector’s words grew sharp after Phil’s playful jest, almost as if it had struck a bit of a nerve for whatever reason.

“Sounds a bit snappy, not enough sleep either? Understandable, your grandmother always talked about how you’d turn endlessly throughout the night. Still got nightmares goin’ on?” Phil was definitely pushing a line, but only because this was the banter he needed to help wake himself up for the rest of the day. Afterall, he knew that the collector couldn’t lay a finger on him and his words, although teasing in tone, were genuine in nature. That alone was enough to get the collector’s ears burning red and the second a bundle of coins wrapped delicately in linen were handed over to him, he snatched it from the baker’s hand.

“Have a splendid day, Phil.” 

“I think I will. Come back if you’d like some milk and buttercrisps.” 

If he could ever revel in anything, it’d be the sound of the collector’s disgruntled huff of annoyance as he turned and exited the bakery without another word, gaining all but a raise of a brow from the coachman. 

Today was going to be a good day, Phil swore of it. With the nerve of a businessman pinched and a steaming cup of coffee, he’d fold his arms atop the counter and stood with that embracing grin, eyes half-lidded as he removed his hat from atop the head and cast it off to the side.

Oddly enough, the hat swirled through the air as a feathery mist surrounded it; manifesting into the shape of a dainty chiffon parakeet with fern coloring on their wings. With a coo and chirp, the parakeet fluttered onward towards the door and swooped on down towards the door. There was a flick and a squawk and the ‘closed’ sign flipped onwards to ‘open’.

Taking a long sip of his coffee, Phil allowed his eyes to drift close as his familiar fluttered freely around the shop, chirping a little lullaby that brought a peaceful look to his face. 

He felt almost as if his familiar was all he had left of a kindled connection to the wilds, the rest having been bled dry throughout countless years of neglect. 

It might have been too late for him to light that dying flame, but he knew it wasn’t too late for others like him. After all, it’s what she would have wanted.

Her dream will live on through him, even if it’ll make him meet the same fate.

**He’ll keep his oath.**


	3. Forges and Foliage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's the worst that can happen?" The elf asked himself.

The woods is what one would call quite a sacred place, merely for the silence and solace it often brought when not met face to face with crooks and bandits. While the walls of Cessavit were stable enough to keep unwanted guests and intruders at bay, the Kingdom of Elidyr were less than worried; despite being the center of some of the biggest trade routes the land had to offer. Although with this, everyone also knew the dangers of the wilds and what may be lurking within the forests, while many were advised against going anywhere close towards the crooked oak trees. Their wall was enough for defense, fenced by towers and towers only to be surrounded by a swirling moat that seemed to do as intended. 

Needless to say, those omens and fairy tales were sometimes often overlooked, usually by the reckless images of youth who likely never quite stepped foot outside of those very walls to begin with.

Unfortunately, the blacksmith’s son was a part of that youth.

When you grow up surrounded by wrought-iron gates and fine craftsmanship of weaponry, one would expect a life full of adventure and marvel. As a child, it was the lad’s dream to have a group of unruly adventurers with scars that told stories that their voice could not, requesting their finest reliquary for their next quest into the unknown lands to slay whatever beast that stood between them and their objective. A dream to be the smith who was the only reason said adventurers made it through their task, all because of their handiwork. Yet..

Why did it feel so empty?

There was still work, but not as one would intend. A repair here and there, horseshoes at most, some silverware orders and on the briefest occasion, a carving knife. It wasn’t terrible, but it surely wasn’t the work Tommy had expected when he grew into the care of his father’s workshop, the old rickety sign of ‘Innit Imports’ creaking within the breeze as he slaved away over the scolding coals, hammering whatever feeling he had left in his hands after all these years. By the time he was finished carving out a blade from the polished blackstone, he had already grown bored and irritated by the scent of ash that burned at his senses, the soot that stained his hands and the searing heat that threatened to drive him to delirium and at long last, he decided enough was enough for today.

Slipping away from the scolding heat and craftsmanship, Tommy padded away from the forge only to slip the open sign to closed, all but a simple note left on the counter for his father if he were to return earlier than him. Hands bandaged, a knife tucked away into the leathers of his boot, Tommy had something planned for today and he would be damned if anything were to get in the way of his supposed adventure. The walk out of the town wasn’t anything special, greeting those he passed with a jesters smile and a mock two finger salute towards guardsman and fellow forgeborns. Out the gate, over the bridge and down the old road paved with redstone dust and cobble, all until he found himself out of the reach of the tower's peering eyes. 

Normally, Tommy knew not to meddle with fate; after all, he knew of the tales of the forest, he knew the stories he could repeat at the top of his head about travelers who ventured into the woods only to never return, yet here he was standing before the oaken trees, those curious eyes of his watching as the vines danced harmoniously in the wind, beckoning him, practically welcoming him. 

“What’s the worst that can happen?” The elf asked himself, pointed ears pricking upwards as he’d venture forth into the wilderness, a heavy heart beating excitedly out of his chest with every step he took. The fresh air, the scenery, he took it all in; having spent most of his life in the forge, this was quite unnatural for him and boy did he love it.

The air was brisk and clean, free of ash and the scornful scent of coal and metals, the foliage was lively, speckled with blossoming flowers of blues and reds, mushrooms sprouting from mossy roots that threatened to tangle the laces of his boots and the foreignness it all brought him. It was-- colorful, lively, it was new. 

Alas, as he wandered, Tommy wasn’t quite sure where he was going. Every turn he took began to look the same, the twisting roots and vines threw him off in a deceitful manner and time became all but a concept the second he was unable to see the sunlight peeking through the speckled leaves above his head. 

The elven teen took a moment to process what the hell might have been happening, and decided he was going to turn back; likely go the way he came but when he turned, he found himself faced with a completely different path of the one he had just taken, a gutter like growl emitting from the darkness. 

Instinctively, Tommy drew the knife from his boot and prepared himself for what he could assume was the worse, the pommel of the blade clutched tightly within his bandaged hand, slinking into a defense stance as he began to pad backwards; vision trained upon where he had heard the noise. Even if he seemed like he could fend off whatever awaited him, nothing could prepare him for whatever beast it was lunging at him with lightning fast reflexes. They had collided, and the beast felt heavy against him; Tommy couldn’t think by the time he felt a pair of thorn-like claws rake against the flesh of his side leaving a sickening feeling clawing at the back of his throat. 

Defense was one thing, survival was another, and now he knew the difference of such things. Tommy brought the blade upwards in an overhead sling, letting out a primal yell as he felt the warmth of blood splatter against him followed by an eldritch yip. Once he felt the weight of the beast lift itself from atop of him, the elf scrambled to his feet and made a daring dash towards the coiling vines and twinkling golden lights. What more of a choice did he have? The lights looked almost like lanterns, but he couldn’t quite grasp a firm look upon them when he was actively running for his life. He dared not to look back, only hearing the heavy steps rushing at him. 

“Dad!” Tommy cried out, almost pitifully as he wrapped an arm around his side, desperate for someone to come and fetch him from this wooden landscape which may as well be his final resting place.”I should have listened,” His thoughts relayed,”I should have listened, I should have known better!” Screaming at himself, he could barely hear the sound of rushing water closing in. He had a choice to make, and it was to be made now or never. Tommy couldn’t see the water, but those ears of his were able to pinpoint where it had been coming from.

“FUCK YOU!” The teen yelled into the wispy air, eyes clenched tight as he took a leap of faith over the peaks of the falls, landing on spiky rocks below was currently the least of his problems. If this were a predator, it surely wouldn’t follow him this far into the forest-- and surely wouldn’t be able to pick up his scent in the water, right? Those thoughts became fleeting when he had just barely managed to break the water, the currents sweeping him away seemingly into the abyss of the glistening hues; arms flailing as he tried to catch himself on any rocks, branches, foliage, anything he could grasp onto to free himself from the chilling waters that threatened to swallow him whole. His body ached, his mind was racing, and it was only moments did he find himself caught upon what may have been a branch that had anchored him from the currents, and with a fair amount of struggle, he had managed to pull himself from the waters and pull his body onto what he hoped would be land.

It wasn’t until he felt a hand on said branch did he fully process what the fuck had happened, and as he opened his eyes; he wasn’t expecting to be met with a pair of discolored brown and gold eyes staring back at him with the same amount of confusion. 

He wasn’t holding onto a branch, he was holding onto what looked like a staff, some handy craftsmanship to it, and then he remembered there was someone else holding onto said staff. The cloaked staff-holder and Tommy held their silence for a total of two minutes and nine seconds.

Tommy took this time to note how different-- such a figure was. He had seen elves and humans, sometimes dwarves on the brief occasion; but this figure was neither of those. Through the hem of the cloak, he could take note of a pair of horns that curled almost upwards, animalistic like ears and a deathly stare in those discolored orbs that peered daggers right through him. The faint outline of sharp teeth pressed against their lip, which seemed almost curled into a scowl. Strange markings littered their cheek, which illuminated their features briefly. It was different-- mysterious, uncanny even and he couldn’t help but to feel panic rush through him. 

Alas, after such silence, he released a sudden scream, which was met with one similar to his own; it sounded human, but.. He couldn’t quite tell before he was conked on the head with the blunt end of the staff, effortlessly rendering him unconscious. 

“..Oh.” The figure croaked, glancing down at the bloodied elf drenched with water, brows knitting together in thought. Scratching at the top of their head with nails that just barely carve shapes into the worn down wool of black and red, the figure couldn’t quite leave the unconscious being out there for the beasts to get. It was instinct that resulted in such an impact, and they weren’t quite aiming to knock the lanky teen out. With almost a disgruntled sight, they used their staff as a way to lift the boy from the ground and draped them over their shoulder. They grumbled something in a gruff voice before sinking deeper into the forest and foliage, hooves clattering lightly against the ground as they wandered away; guided by the same flickering lights that lured Tommy towards the waterfall. 

Tommy could only accept whatever fate was laid out before him, whether he was to die, be fed to beasts, or left somewhere within the forest to find his own way out. Needlessly, if he didn’t get attention fast, he would likely bleed out from his injuries.

Perhaps.. The cloaked figure knew that.

And perhaps they were trying to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy does something dumb and ends up in a supposedly bad situation. After all, what's the worst that can happen?


	4. Lavender and Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Honey speaks of reasoning, but not of clarity.”
> 
> “What-- what the fuck does that mean--.”

The cloaked figure examined the bleeding teen with an inquisitive gaze, their eyes scanning over that tattered linen along Tommy’s side as a frown played its way onto their lips. They appeared to be pacing, the slightest sounds of hooves clattering against the wooden grove sounding almost rhythmic to the barely conscious elf who did all he could to prevent himself from revealing he even had some consciousness left in him, worried that perhaps this was another monster from the woods aiming to carve his bones into weapons for the wilds, perhaps having captured him to boil him into an uncanny stew, maybe even to sacrifice him to whatever laid outside the very walls of the roomy hut. 

All he had to do was wait for an opportunity, either to fight back or escape, but that burning in his side seared itself into his nerves, leaving him questioning if whatever had attacked him had carved it’s claws into his ribs in the process. The world felt desperately slow around him, time itself became merely a concept; with blurred vision and the unknown tongue being spoken around him, Tommy was for certain this is where he’d die. He wasn’t rescued, he was just stolen from yet another predator of the wilds, such is way, similar to as he was told.

_“No one can hear you in the forest,”_ He’d recall such a statement from the tavern.

_“Once you’re in their grasp, you best be wishin’ for mercy. What lies beyond those limits are horrid, cruel monsters. They know not of compassion, know not of love. They live to feed, and feed they will.”_ He should have listened, even if he thought such tales were meant in place to keep children from wandering off.

_“Their eyes are ablaze, horrid features upon their face and twisted horns atop their head decorated with the bones of your young.”_ The pacing seemed to halt, which only made his heart race.

_ “They’ll sink their teeth into you and tear you to shreds. No one has ever escaped the grasp of the wilds, they’ll drain your soul for a ritual and bleed your veins dry for their mead.” _

Such tales bore through his mind like a wildfire igniting within his lungs as the sound of an unknown tongue broke the atmosphere. He was going to die here, that beast was casting a spell, yet all he could do was lay there in a pitiful manner as his body curled inwards on itself, a weak sob escaping of him as he pleaded silently to nothing to be spared, perhaps even for mercy. Tommy was young, he had a life he wished to live, he didn’t want such hopes and dreams to be whisked away all because he didn’t believe a word that fell from the taverns. 

All he could feel was a clawed hand placed itself atop his ribs, forcing a pained yelp to escape from him as his eyes clenched shut. As the cloaked figure continued to speak, there was a moment where Tommy swore he felt-- perhaps better. A poison? A wicked curse? Adrenaline? At such a time, he could only bare himself to mutter the very words,

“Just get on with it!”

The words spoke itself in bold, a brash demand; he didn’t want to be toyed with, if he was going to die, he’d at least go out with some kind of bravery, but such bravery was casted away when he heard what sounded like a chuckle.

“With what?” The figure spoke, a voice that oozed with honey, yet spoke partly in an accent Tommy couldn’t quite decipher.

“Aren’t-- y’gonna kill me?” The elf mused, a hint of his strength returning as the figure continued such an odd process.

“Why.. why would I do that?” A puzzled tone fell from the figure, their head craned slightly to the side as if curious by what Tommy had meant. 

It took Tommy a moment or so to process, more so, the time it took him to at least open his eyes. His fogged vision had cleared slightly, leaving him in a daze as he took in surroundings. 

He was within what appeared to be a cozy little home, perhaps on a treetop judging by the view he could see peeking through a pair of wooled curtains stained with various pigments and markings. The room he was in had various materials that he could only assume was that of alchemy, vials of glowing liquids and the scent of flora haunting the air around him overwhelmed by lavender and honey.

Vines and overgrowth decorated the home, and seemed to be what kept the little roomy treetop hut together with mushrooms and honeysuckle sprouting from the vines. 

It was lively, it was bright, and dare he say it was absolutely beautiful to behold.

That was when his gaze shifted towards his injury, only to find that the wounds itself had grown-- sealed, small blossoming of buds poking from the skin as it were tied by a thread, the buds producing an almost numbing effect upon him that soothed the flesh. He was being.. Healed, by the looks of it.

After being starstruck by his discovery, Tommy finally turned his gaze to meet with the figure, who seemed to lower their cowl with a sympathetic expression upon that face. They looked rather human, seeming similar to Tommy in age with chestnut colored curls with a pair of nubby curved horns protruding from the top of their head, sprouts of mushrooms and brilliant flora adorning their hair that resembled that almost of a crown.

Their skin was tanned, obviously kissed by the sun with freckle like markings dusting their cheeks and nose. More curiously, they had a variety of painted markings in a sunflower pigment that dressed the corner of their gentle gold and brown eyes that held promise to them. 

They had ears that resembled that of a lamb in place of elven or human ones with toffee and cream colored fur. They didn’t have feet, instead, they had hooves that seemed rather cared for, a pair of golden bands around what Tommy could consider to be their ankles. 

This wasn’t a monster, or at least, what Tommy was told a monster was and judging by the creature’s expression, they both appeared to be on the same page.

_ “..What are you?” _

_ “..What are you?” _

The pair questioned seemingly in unison, which of course caught them both off guard for all but a second as if trying to figure out who would speak first. Tommy originally wanted to speak first on such a matter, but was quickly cut short by the smaller being grabbing their staff and pointing the coiled branch at him, various runes and glyphs glistening against the wood with a mysterious hum emitting from it. 

“What are you doing in my forest?” The creature had asked, any hospitality they had was suddenly replaced with that of alertness.

“I was lost--,” Tommy attempted to defend, but the staff was pushed more urgently against his throat in a threatening manner, choking the words right out of his lungs as the creature scowled at him.

“And don’t you lie to me.” Those very words carried itself in a venomous tongue, even with such a voice behind it.

“ -- Listen,” The elf choked out, extending his arms outwards in a defensive stance to show he wasn’t a threat.

“I wanted to prove them wrong.” Tommy’s voice strained itself to even speak, every word he swallowed only caused more unease to the smaller beast before him. 

“You’re not supposed to be here, you crossed the limits and could have gotten yourself killed.” Now, Tommy wasn’t sure if he was being scolded or if such a fiend was expressing a state of concern for his actions.

“ -- Then why did you save me?” Luck, he was lucking his luck with such a question and boy was it clear that he did! The staff made itself quite accustomed with the crook of his neck, curling around the back only to pull him closer towards the figure with a crooked scowl.

“If-- If I’m not suppose t’be here, then what was the point in all of that? Surely, -surely- you have somethin’ to think ‘bout on your own, yeah?” The blacksmith’s son liked to believe that he had charisma, that he was capable of swindling his way through conversations with a slight of hand and a dumbfounded grin, but this was a genuine question he wanted to know. 

Silence was all he had gotten.

The closest thing he had gotten to an answer was the slightest flicker of a bee’s wing breeze past him, a smaller beast that bloomed with honeysuckles and dew. It held the small form of what one could assume was a guide, perhaps the same ones Tommy saw that lead him to the cliffs, or the ones the creature before him used to find his way home.

“..Please leave, I will escort you to the limits.”

“That ain’t an answer.”

“Do you wish to be fed to the Specula?” 

“Not quite, but I would at least like t’know why you went outta your way t’save me if you’re jus’ gonna throw me back out there.”

“Honey speaks of reasoning, but not of clarity.”

“What-- what the fuck does that mean--.”

It was like almost the creature was in a rush by how they had moved, grasping their hood and pulling it upwards as the flickering companion swirled around them leaving mists of brilliance in its wake. Before Tommy had known it, he was already outside and being pulled through the forests with the creature before him navigating the foliage with ease.

“This isn’t happening,” The creature muttered beneath their breath, almost.. Anxious sounding as their spills faded away into their mother tongue, a language Tommy couldn’t decipher even if he tried.

All he could do was listen and watch for their body language, how their ears wilted as they muttered and how their index finger drummed against their staff as if it were a tic. 

Despite when he entered the forest, Tommy didn’t feel like he had been wandering for hours, whereas with the creature he felt like it was merely a brisk walk from corner to corner. It wasn’t until he could see the slightest skyline of his village's lights in the distance faltering out for the night.

All the words he wanted to say choked itself within his throat as he was nudged forward, fumbling some in the process as he’d flail slightly for balance. Tommy wasn’t exactly sure why he felt empathy for a creature that had threatened him, yet, he wasn’t sure why that same creature almost held the same for him.

“What do I tell them?” The blonde questioned among the silence, standing at the edge of the forest with elven ears pricked upwards with intent.

“That you got lost.” The creature responded quickly.

“What about the monsters in the forest, the man eating dream stealers that wish to harvest your bones for the wilds?” Tommy continued, gazing off into the distance.

“..Is that what you all think of us?” Heartbreak, was that-- heartbreak he thought he had heard at such tales?

The hushed wind danced around them, Tommy could just barely hear the sound of the creature padding off away behind him.

“If it’s t’any regards,” He’d chime quietly, looking back over his shoulder as the creature did the same.

“I don’t think you’re a monster.” 

Almost starstruck by such words, the creature stared back at Tommy with a curious gaze, less dangerous, more-- gentler in regards of likelihood, just barely able to see the smallest smile upon that freckled face.

Then like a whisper in the wind, the creature disappeared without another word, leaving Tommy alone for the rest of his venture back to the village where he was able to slip himself into his home and settle himself off into bed for the night almost as if nothing had ever happened. The pain subsided within him, he didn’t feel frightened or stressed, nor did he feel exhausted. He slept lightly, unburdened by nightmares or terrors, instead being blessed with a pleasant dream that sated his active mind for once, leaving him with the soothing scent of lavender and a faerie light resting upon his windowsill. 

Perhaps the forest wasn’t that bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tubbo and tommy meeting! if there's anyone you wanna be introduced next, let me know in the comments! stay safe and stay hydrated


	5. (Preview's and Update Information!)

(Hello! :] I must feed into the AU, hopefully to make up for my inactivity. These are just information about the story and what certain characters may resemble!)

• Tomine "Tommy" Cheney is an elvish apprentice blacksmith within the Kingdom of Elidyr, also known as a reckless little bastard in the eyes of his parents but they adore him nonetheless.

• Wilby "Wilbur" Amitosa is a half-elf librarian who lives close to Elidyr in a village renowned for laws against music due to the belief that it'd draw monsters from the depths. Wilbur, on the other hand, is quite the musician; often disguising himself as a bard.

• Philetus "Phil" Kanara is a human shop keeper who is aiming to run a sanctuary for those who bare magical abilities, much like him. It was his wife's dream, and when she passed away from illness, he swore to make her dreams come true. He has a familiar that is disguised as his hat through transmutation and her name is Coconut. His home and shop are within the walls of Cessavit.

• Jaylon "Schlatt" D'or is a "human" debt collector for the Kingdom of Cessavit who works under the royal family in order to keep their citizens in 'check'. He's not lawful by nature, but carries his tilted charisma proudly. Phil likes to believe he's hiding a pair of horns, and as time goes on; Phil may believe that to be true.

• Alejandrin "Quackity" Pradeep is a impish, yet chaotically friendly advisor to the Jaylon, working alongside the devilish man to collect debts and be a kinder face to be knocking on doors. Although his intentions of helping Jaylon may appear crude, it's more than likely the pair have been partners for quite awhile; their friendship seeming to last since childhood by how they speak to one another.

• "Tubbo" Estijarah is a forest nymph who lives in the within the foliage of Willowtangle Woods, an ancient forest in which the cities of Elidyr dread due to the supposed stories that follow it's background. He's a bit more open to the idealism of being close to humans, but seems to fear the aftermath of it all. He is one of the many fauna that roam within the woods, but his tribe is known as Weavers of Dreams where their essences rely on the dreams and mystical meanings. Aka, Tubbo is probably the reason why you dreamed of eating an entire bag of ritz at about four thirty in the morning and those dreams of showing up to school without your pants. Why? Because it's funny to him.

I intend on taking this story through a lot of routes, but I feel like that'd take quite awhile. :'] A small spoiler will be:

\- Dream is the prince of Elidyr, George is his royal advisor and Sapnap is the son of the families servant; the three grew up together and are quite close.

\- Wilbur and Jschlatt, of course, have a little feud when Schlatt comes to his library asking for payment despite Schlatt not being apart of Elidyr's rule.

\- Eret and Fundy are likely the only ones capable of tranversing the woods without worry, mainly due to Fundy's foxkin heritage and Eret's mystical vision. (Eret is, in fact, a witch)

\- Nikki and Minx are engaged, why? Because I want some fluff. They look after an orphanage together, where Wilbur comes by every now and then to read to the children and play music in peace.

\- Badboyhalo is an elemental that was summoned years ago and was trapped within isolation until a wild Skeppy accidentally freed him, and instead of destroying the fragment of the elemental, he is now stuck with a weightless creature who is obsessed with bake goods.

\- Technoblade is a prince from yet another Kingdom, one who is involved in military aspects rather than production or religion.

\- Karl is a wild alchemist who lacks a concept of time, it's merely an illusion to him and he strives for it.

\- KarlNap can and will happen, + Quackity to get a bunch more fluff going.

\- Wilbur and Jschlatt absolutely hate each other and then eventually they hold hands!

\- Spoiler: Jschlatt is Tubbo's guardian and doesn't approve of Tubbo leaving the woods, and more so doesn't approve of him going near elves or humans. Overly protective.

\- War arc war arc war arc.

I'll update this as I go, more so as time goes on. I'm sorry this isn't a true chapter and I hope to make it up to you when I get the time. :" )


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